


ave atque vale

by medeaa



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Roman!AU, and by roman!AU i mean ancient roman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medeaa/pseuds/medeaa
Summary: It was too easy to forget the storm brewing behind them OR amor e amor fati. AU





	ave atque vale

He was dead this time, the rat bastard.

The cobblestones were murder against Annabeth’s bare feet, but obviously she had higher priorities than putting on her shoes. Obviously. Because she had found another not-so-small unwanted present on her side of the fence this morning and it was absolutely _the last time_. Now all she had to do was find the horse’s scrawny owner and either punch his lights out or drag him to the proconsul’s representative where she would get someone to punch him for her.

How did that horse even get on her family’s property?

She cleared the Forum and saw the tails of his tunic whip round the corner. Mercilessly shoving indignant bystanders to the side, she pounded after him, each breath tearing at the stitch in her side. Surely this city wasn’t this big, surely he would run out of steam. But considering the amount of hot air in his head, that might take a while. She raced past the temple of Diana and-

Wait. Had he just led her in circles the whole time?

Annabeth switched directions, tearing towards the Forum again, arms pumping, chest heaving. She would head him off, and then she would corner him, and then she would catch her breath, and then she would punch him so hard his ancestors would feel it. It was one thing to let his horse defile her home _for the thirtieth time._ It was quite another to make a fool of her.

She knocked over a fruit stand and only caught the tail end of the vendor’s angry shout. _Oh well,_ Annabeth thought. _It was all rotten anyway._

Swinging past a fountain, she caught sight of a tall, disheveled figure with a mop of black hair freeze as they locked eyes. She gave the slightest shake of her head before he bolted to the side and all but dove into the bathhouse. Cursing, she followed him in.

As Annabeth skidded ungracefully to a halt, she shifted her gaze around wildly, but was only met with the vacant stares of the mosaics. The only sounds were the gentle lapping of the pool and her laboured breathing, echoing off the walls. The only light was the faint sun coming in through the entrance, and the result was eerie. Normally, the room was lit with torches and braziers when Annabeth came here. She didn’t like how silent it was. Especially considering her target was currently in here, plausibly hiding in the shadows like the worm he was and praying to his favourite god to let her spare him. _Too bad, neighbour mine! You’re dead, and your little horse too._

So what if she had negligible human contact? She was too busy studying Greek architecture.

“I know you’re in here, Jackson.” Her voice carried, and she was pleased with how menacing it sounded. “You can’t hide forever. I know where you live. I’ll have your scrawny ass whipped if I don’t do it myself.”

“Been fantasizing about my ass, Chase?” came a snarky tenor from somewhere in the shadows. Annabeth whirled around to find the source but it bounced off every surface. She groaned in frustration, the sound tearing itself from her throat virtually of its own volition.

“I. Will. End. You,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “As if it’s not enough to be the most aggravating and inconsiderate neighbour in the history of the Empire, _and_ the Republic. The first time it happened, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. The second time, okay, sure. Maybe your horse is a creature of habit. _But every day for a month?_ Do you have any pride?”

“Sure I do, but it can’t be as fragile as yours, if you get so easily offended over a little bit of horse manure,” came his cajoling response.

“ _Jackson!_ ” Her voice was getting unsteady, but could she be blamed? He was a truculent toddler! “I will bring this up with your mother and I will spare no detail of your behaviour.”

“You wouldn’t.” Was that fear she detected in his voice?

“I will, Jackson, and you know it.”

Annabeth smirked in triumph, her hips cocked and arms akimbo. She’d won this one. Oh, yes. Victory was sweet. Veni, vidi, vinci, and all that. She would call herself the Scipio Africanus to his Hannibal, but that would be a disservice to Ha-

She only had a few seconds to feel sinewy arms wrap around her waist and hot breath on her hair before she was airborne, only to hit the water with an explosion. She flailed around in the tepid water, trying to free herself from the billowing folds of her tunic. Her mind was still in panic mode. She kicked to the surface and emerged with a gasp, swiping the hair from her face. She paddled to the edge and clambered out, all elbows and knees. Still gasping for breath, she could faintly make out the residual echo of his laughter amidst the sloshing of the water. Annabeth let out a roar of frustration, clenching her fists and actually striking the stone floor. Sopping wet, furious, and still bloody barefoot, she stormed out of the bathhouse and stomped all the way home, leaving a dripping trail behind her.

He had better be afraid. Because Annabeth was on the warpath.

 

***

 

In the morning, she stepped outside into the bright sun, only to find a bouquet of flowers under her foot.

Soggy flowers.

If there was steam coming out of her ears, she wouldn’t be surprised.

 

***

 

Percy was in a great mood. He’d taken Tenebrus out for a ride, he’d had lunch _with black pepper_ with his mother, and he had successfully evaded the wrath of his scary next-door neighbour. Really, it wasn’t his fault that Tenebrus keeping defecating on her property; it wasn’t like he told the horse to do it. He could scarcely understand how it happened anyway- there was a wall, almost six feet high, separating their homes.

And he wouldn’t have thrown her in the baths if she hadn’t threatened to talk to his mother. That was one line he could not allow her to cross. His mother was his favourite person in the world, but she held Annabeth in very unfortunate high esteem. In hindsight, it probably only served to make her madder, but hey. He was in possession of all his limbs, so he considered that a success.

_Thunk!_

“Ow! What the hell?” Percy rubbed his head and looked around for the missile weapon, his gaze coming to rest on a lonely leather sandal. It was much smaller than his own, which led him to the only logical conclusion.

“Chase,” he nearly growled. Turning around, he saw a curly blonde head and grey eyes peering at him from over the fence, brows furrowed.

“Jackson,” she replied primly, although he couldn’t see her mouth. She wasn’t tall enough to see over the fence, so he supposed she was perched on something. “If you can give me a valid excuse for throwing me into the baths yesterday, I might not have to castrate you with my bare hands.”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Percy mocked, purposefully knocking his knees together.

“ _Such_ an original comeback, really. Well, I guess I give up. There’s no topping that.” She rolled her eyes rather violently. “But really. I’m not here for banter. I want you to own up to how much of a prick you are.”

“Oh,” he said, throwing up his hands. “If I’m a prick, that must make you Herod the Great.” Percy’s patience was stretching very thin.

Annabeth’s brows shot up. “Come over here and say that to my face, I dare you.”

Without a word, Percy stalked out the gate, setting the door swinging, and entered the Chase property. They were better off than his family, but hey. At least the people living in his home weren’t so rude. He walked up to her and crossed his arms, looking superbly unimpressed. He raised a single eyebrow, cockily, just to annoy her. Annabeth hopped down from the pot she was balanced precariously on and came forward to stand less than a foot away. Percy was pleased with how far she had to look up to meet his eyes. She crossed her arms, mirroring him.

“Look,” she started. “The less I have to look at you, the better. So just make sure your horse doesn’t _bleeding_ defecate on my side of the fence again, alright?”

He shouldn’t have said it. He really shouldn’t have. It just sort of slipped out. “Maybe Tenebrus wouldn’t crap on your shrubs if you weren’t such an ass.”

It was too late to take back now. They both froze, staring at the other, waiting to see what would happen.

And then Annabeth’s fist swung out of nowhere and his nose went _crack!_ and his vision went red for a second and he guessed he probably should have seen it coming. He let out a sound of surprise and pain and stumbled back and his head was feeling a little funny and _was that blood?_

He looked up from the red polka-dots on the tile to see Annabeth staring at him, panic in her expression. She reached out a trembling hand to his face, knuckles split and slightly bloody, but he flinched back, still staring.

“Oh, gods,” she said, and he noticed that her voice was much more nervous than it was normally. “Oh gods, I think I broke your nose.”

A strangled sound gurgled up from his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a he-didn’t-know-what. He hadn’t thought she’d actually physically injure him. He was dreaming, surely. There was a pain radiating from the spot, but it came second to his shock. He could feel blood running over his lips and down his chin.

“You-” Annabeth’s voice jarred him out of his reverie. “You’re bleeding all over the place.”

Percy looked down. Sure enough, there was a steadily growing pool of red at his feet. “Oh, look. You’re right.” His voice sounded strange to his ears. “I’ll just.” He gestured awkwardly to his house and started to make his way over.

“Just clean yourself up here!” she said, putting a hand on his arm. Weird. She was touching him non-violently.

Weird.

“You’ll just make more of a mess.”

“Oh,” Percy said. “Okay.” Did her punch make his brain malfunction? “I’ll just.” He walked over to her basin, slightly warm under the late spring sun, and knelt down. He cupped a handful of the water and tried to tip it over his nose. Instead, like the genius he was, he managed to punch himself. “Ow. _Owoww_.”

He tried again. And hit himself again. And muttered a few choice curses this time.

Suddenly, his shoulders were wrenched to the side and he found himself staring into a pair of disconcerted eyes. She took a cloth, submerged it, wrung it out, held his shoulder.

“Here,” she said softly. And awkwardly. Mostly awkwardly. “Don’t move, or you’ll end up killing yourself, knowing you.” She reached out tentatively, almost like she was asking his permission, before gently swabbing his face, running the cloth down his chin and over his lips and on the area around his nose in a way that felt too intimate for them. Percy didn’t know that Annabeth could be gentle. Or that she bit her lip when she concentrated.

Her eyes were fixated on her task, the grey a little too intimidating to be considered pretty but too pretty not to be. Percy was fixated on her eyes. Her eyebrows were scrunched with concern and guilt and it made a little dimple in the middle. Her hands were softer than he’d thought they’d be, but considering he thought she bathed in Vesuvius and used the blood of her victims as soap, that wasn’t all too hard. When she wasn’t scowling or yelling at him, Percy realized, she looked nice. Friendly. Like someone with a sense of humour. Her blond curls were falling in her eyes; he wondered why she even bothered trying to pin it up. He wondered how it looked down.

“What are you looking at?” she snapped. She dropped her hand and let the cloth fall into the basin with a slap. The water was turning faintly bloody. Percy snapped his gaze to her hard, closed off one. He could feel his own stare becoming distinctly tougher. Her expression seemed to be asking, _Well?_

“Nothing,” he snapped back. “I wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t _broken my nose_.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “I looked at it more closely, it’s not broken.”

Percy stood up and she followed him. “It still doesn’t erase the fact that you punched me like an angry two-year old.”

“You came into my house and insulted me!”

“You literally invited me here to do that!”

“Are you just going to take everything I say literally?”

“That implies I even listen to you.”

“Oho, really mature, Jackson.”

“More mature than punching someone when you get frustrated!”

“Are you ever going to let that go? Besides, you _so_ deserved it.”

“You know what? I’m done here.”

“Well, fine then.”

“ _Fine_.”

“ _Fine!_ ”

Percy stalked next door and debated about throwing himself down on his bed in a fit of anger, but his nose twinged and he didn’t feel like dealing with more blood.

 

***

 

Annabeth couldn’t sleep. She kept seeing his face when she punched him and sure, she’d imagined doing it before but now that she had, she realized that she hadn’t expected him to be so…real. She hadn’t expected to feel his skin against her knuckles, or the way the cartilage of his nose bent, or the stinging pain in her split skin. She hadn’t expected him to react the same way as she had, with nervousness and a bit of panic. She hadn’t expected his look of shock and pain, his thick black eyebrows furrowed in a way that made him look older and younger.

She certainly hadn’t expected to clean his face for him.

Annabeth couldn’t explain why she had punched him. She could have even slapped him; that would have been less violent and crude. It had just seemed like the thing to do, but now that she thought about it (not like she hadn’t been thinking about it all day), she really had _literally_ invited him over to insult her. And he was right, she had acted immaturely.

Gods, that tasted sour to even think. Percy Jackson. Right. _Pah._

She could have even talked with Sally Jackson about making sure the horse stayed away from her side of the wall. It could have had a simple fix. Of course, he was not entirely blameless; making unnecessarily rude and snarky comments just for the hell of it, just to be annoying. But they could have handled this differently. And now Annabeth had small traces of scrubbed-away blood on her tile and a weight like the pyramids on her conscience.

Jupiter Almighty, had she even apologized?

A small part of her wanted to ignore this realization, to just stay in bed and go to sleep and never care about it again. But the bigger part of her was worrying a hole in her chest and she couldn’t think of anything but how stupidly she’d acted. Really, she’d be doing herself a favour if she apologized. That would show _wisdom_.

Annabeth turned over, fitfully kicking her legs around under her bedclothes. She’d just love to get a few hours of sleep.

 

***

 

Tenebrus was snorting and dancing around, narrowly missing Percy’s feet. He was approaching a type of skittish he reserved for snakes and hostile strangers.

“Whoa, there, calm down,” he muttered. He patted the horse’s neck a few times before he caught sight of a small slip of parchment lodged in his saddle. He fished it out and saw small, precise handwriting.

_I’m sorry._

Percy smiled. And then he winced at what that did to his nose.

 

***

 

“Hey! Hey, Chase!”

Annabeth whipped around, eyes searching for the speaker through the undulating throng of people. The Forum was always packed, but on the Kalends of any month it was even more so. After a few moments, she spotted his telltale black hair, gangly stance, and green eyes.

Alright, so it wasn’t as gangly as she made it out to be. Whatever. She was allowed to be bitter about her comparatively weak frame.

He came to stand in front of her and she noticed his posture was distinctly less hostile than it normally was. In fact, she’d say that he was sort of docile, but still wary.

“I-” he started before shutting his mouth. His voice was so mild that it was almost hard to hear over the buzzing of the crowd. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides. Annabeth was feeling especially awkward. There was a heavy guilt starting to settle in her chest. She didn’t even care that he had come here to say something. She wanted to apologize to his face. But she was too afraid to, and she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. There was something terrifying about admitting she was wrong and exposing herself as vulnerable to someone who was constantly forcing her to try to win.

“How’s your nose?” she blurted. She debated about clapping her hands over her mouth, but she knew that wouldn’t suck the words out of the air.

Percy looked surprised. “I-it’s better than yesterday.” He went back to looking at his toes before he looked up at her again. His gaze didn’t waver. “I’m sorry,” he said, and this time he didn’t sound unsure. “I did some really stupid things in the last few days. I’ll make sure Tenebrus keeps his business on our side.”

Annabeth was startled. An apology was the last thing she’d expected him to say. She was thinking more along the lines of a confrontation about her idiotic behaviour of yesterday. She stuttered out a, “Me too,” before lapsing back into her pregnant silence.

“Truce,” he blurted, sticking out his hand and narrowly missing her face.

“What?” Annabeth’s head shot up and she looked at him in confusion.

“I just,” he started. He shook his hand in front of her face. Annabeth wanted to be annoyed but her culpability was being obnoxiously loud. “I’m sick of fighting. I don’t think we’ve ever gotten along, and we live next to each other, so. I just. Um. Truce?” There was a sickeningly endearing look on his face, equal parts hopeful and perplexed and braced for rejection.

Annabeth sniffed and then extended her hand, sure to make sure it was elegantly and with poise and strength. She wasn’t going to concede her bitter seventeen year feud without grace. “Truce,” she said. Something had broken in their rivalry as soon as she saw that the blood was no longer a metaphorical symbol of her victory. She didn’t think she’d forgiven him since he’d accidentally broken her doll when they were children. Hades, she didn’t think she’d ever given him a chance.

Percy’s hand was rough and calloused but warm, and it almost completely swallowed hers; square and long where she was curved and- as loath as she was to use the word- dainty. They shook, and let go quickly. They inclined their heads, albeit a little calculatingly on her part, and wary on his, but Annabeth still felt something akin to relief. It wasn’t often that warring kingdoms negotiated ceasefires.

 

***

 

Annabeth looked around her terrace. It was spotless. She smiled.

_Four days of bliss._

 

***

 

Percy noticed her smiling as she went around town. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her smile. It lit up her eyes.

_She should do that more often._

 

***

 

Her father kept asking her who had kidnapped his daughter. She kept replying with an obnoxiously bright smile. Her mother ignored her. She smiled at her, regardless.

Was it really this nice not to be constantly scowling and yelling? Maybe that’s why Percy’s mother looked so young still.

 

***

 

He saw her curly blonde hair falling out of its pins, which she was angrily trying to secure. He stopped right behind her and tapped her shoulder. She jumped and almost stumbled into him before she righted herself haughtily.

“I think it’d be better if you just left it,” Percy said. “It doesn’t look like it wants to cooperate.”

Annabeth looked like she wanted to say something cutting, but she bit her lip and then sighed. “I don’t even know why I bother anymore, other than for decorum.”

“I don’t know what that word means so I’m just gonna nod and pretend like I do,” he deadpanned, and to his surprise, she laughed. Her laugh was like chimes, he thought. He’d never heard her laugh.

“I’d much rather put it in a tie,” Annabeth agreed.

“Wanna walk?” he asked, gesturing to the path in front of them.

She looked a bit taken aback, but recovered quickly, instead pasting on an unsure smile. “Sure.”

Percy tried to avoid swinging his arms for fear of hitting hers. They walked in awkward silence for a while until he decided to bite the bullet. “So…it’s nice out today.”

Annabeth scoffed. “The weather, Jackson, really? Am I that boring?”

Percy grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “It’s not like we’ve been neighbours for our entire lives.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, excuse me if I’m not Cicero.”

“Even a mute has better conversation skills than you, Jackson,” she said, almost too sharply to be teasing, but not quite.

“Oh,” he said dramatically, throwing a hand to his chest. “I am wounded, Chase. Wounded.”

Annabeth peered at his face. “I can tell. That nose looks like a tomato.”

Percy raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected her to be so gallant about it. “I like tomatoes,” he said simply.

She laughed again.

They reached her domus, and they both stood awkwardly. Percy let his arms hang uselessly at his sides and Annabeth wrapped hers around herself. The sun was low in the sky, the pink line of the horizon marred only by the peak of a mountain. The bustle of the daytime crowd was being replaced by the buzz of the nighttime crowd.

“So,” he said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe we actually had a civil conversation for once, Jackson,” she said, mockingly impressed.

“It was…nice,” he said. “So, um…night?”

She smiled and inclined her head. “Night, Jackson.”

Just as she was about to disappear behind a column, he shouted, “Percy!” She turned around, her brows puckered, before she laughed a little and then replied, “Annabeth.”

He walked next door and so what if he was smiling before he fell asleep?

 

***

 

Annabeth fumbled her basket, jostled by the over-eager consumers around her, what with the new shipment of spices and silks. They cost an arm and a leg, but her mother had given her the leather sack of denarii purely for that purpose. Well. She’d technically given it to a runner, from whom she had begged it to have something to do. And now she’d dropped all the sacks and vials on the cobblestone ground, and was hoping that no one would crush them underfoot. She scrambled to get all her things, but just as she reached for a last bottle of cloves, someone kicked it, and it went skittering away into a quieter part of the street. Annabeth scooped up the basket, praying that no one would run into her again, and stumbled after it. She ploughed into a few cursing people, but for the most part, she emerged unscathed. She made to swoop down and snatch her prize, but a tall body wearing a reddish tunic grabbed it just before she managed to. Her indignant “Hey!” died on her lips.

“Lose something, Annabeth?” Percy drawled pompously.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and tried to ignore how nice it felt to be on a first-name basis. “Oh, you’re so clever, Percy,” she deadpanned. He veritably pranced to her side and presented the cloves with an elaborate, flourishing, ludicrous bow. She laughed, throwing back her head, and felt her hairpins slip out. “Oh, dammit.”

She crouched to the ground to pick them up and twist her hair back into submission, but once again, Percy beat her to it. “Careful,” he admonished jokingly, brushing the dust off the ivory pins. “You might lose your brain next. Oh, wait.” He handed her the pins, which she stuck into the knot at the base of her neck. Already, there were half-way tucked curls dangling from it. She huffed, and then punched his shoulder.

“Loser,” she said, while he made a show of rubbing the spot and sending a half-joking glare her way. Annabeth hoisted her basket more securely over her shoulder, and they began walking in the direction of home. Once they reached a quieter side street, the volume was cut in half.

Percy sighed. “I can hear myself think again.” His shoulders sagged back and he tilted his face skyward.

Annabeth laughed. “That implies that you ever think,” she said, not unkindly.

He tossed a look sideways, an eyebrow raised. “Clearly I don’t, if I associate with harpies like you.”

She slapped his shoulder. “What, you think you’re some kind of Adonis?” _Funny,_ she thought. _A week ago I wouldn’t have been grinning when I said that._

“What gave it away?” he asked, mockingly anxious. “Was it the devilishly charming smile? The marble jaw? The godlike physique?”

“Hmm,” Annabeth tapped a finger against her chin. “I would have said more the inflated head and sense of self-importance.”

Percy grinned and only narrowly missed stepping in a pile of rotten fruit. Annabeth looked down and choked back a laugh. Sure enough, the Forum was dead ahead.

“What?” he asked, looking perplexed at her reaction to the fruit. She swallowed a giggle.

“I knocked this over while I was chasing you,” she said impressively calmly before a laugh broke free. “The vendor got so angry at me.”

Percy shook his head, grinning, and grabbed her wrist before dragging her along.

They reached their street, the sun overshadowed by the coming nightfall and a black cloud. The walk home didn’t strictly take more than half an hour, but Percy had somehow convinced her to take a winding detour. They separated and bid each other goodnight, with a flippant wave. Percy’s name was unfamiliar on her tongue, but not unpleasant.

She padded through the draughty corridors, her feet cold on account of her having taken off her shoes. She yanked the pins out of her hair and let the blond curls fall around her face. Her outer tunic was thrown unceremoniously somewhere in the shadows. She found her father in the library, reading by the light of a lantern. Not many families could afford to have a library in their home, but her mother was a patrician, and her father was the son of a senator and a wealthy equestrian. As such, she enjoyed much better living conditions than most of the people in her city.

“Annabeth?” Her father looked up from his reading at the sound of her footsteps. “Where were you all day?”

She held up her basket for him to see. “Mom sent me to get some things.”

Her father looked at her. She could tell he was choosing not to comment on the fact that her mother hadn’t actually sent her for anything.  “She sent you just after lunch.” His expression was carefully arranged to mask his annoyance, she should tell.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you care where I am, anyway.”

He turned in his chair to fully face her. “Annabeth, why must you insist on being so belligerent?”

“What,” she said, “just because I’m not all smiley all the time, I’m an angry child?”

He sighed. “I’m not looking to pick a fight. I’ve had a bad enough day as it is.” Now that she noticed, he was still wearing his toga, rumpled and stained. He had bags under his eyes. Annabeth knew that the trip to Palatine Hill wasn’t easy, but he was out of the Senate for a month, as a favour to a younger senator. He would have plenty of time to get rest.

“Things can’t be that bad,” she said placatorily. It had the opposite effect.

Her father threw up his hands before running them through his hair and tugging. “A lot of my colleagues don’t have a lot of faith in our Emperor’s wellbeing. They’re saying he’s going to die before the year’s over.”

“But what’s the basis for their conclusion, that’s the real question. Things have been unstable in the Empire since Nero, everyone knows it. There’s no need to pointlessly raise suspicion.” Annabeth surreptitiously set the basket down on a table.

He sighed again. “In any case, they’re convinced he’s on the downhill. And Rome is still recovering from the Great Fire, too. We need stable leadership, and stirring up rumors is no help.” He looked pensive. “In fact, I’d say there’s still ash in the air, even all the way in Napoli.”

“Dad, we’re further than Napoli,” she argued, albeit pointlessly. Even she had noticed the ash in the air, practically intangible but more concentrated than before. “And we’re closer to the coast than we are to Napoli, anyways. It’s illogical to assume that it’s still in the air here after fifteen years, especially with the sea breezes. It must be because of something else, or else we’re all as crazy as Caligula.”

“Still,” he said. “While emperors may change and cities may burn, I’ll always have a daughter who’s much cleverer than I.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Go back to reading your accounts, you old sap.”

 

***

 

“Mater, I’m home!” Percy’s voice rang through their house, echoing off marble and bouncing back to him. Even though he had been born in this house, the sheer lux of it never failed to amaze him. His father, a rather wealthy patrician, had married his plebeian mother and then died before he was born. He got possession of the house as the eldest and only son and holy Mars was he still getting used to it.

His mother’s voice came from the culina. “Oh, am I a mater now? I thought I was just Mom.”

Percy entered the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her head. “You’re not Just Mom, you’re Magna Mom. Optima Maxima Mom.”

His mom laughed. “You’re something, Perce.” She tapped his shoulder. “Now let me go, unless you want your dinner to burn.” She made a show of poking around the pot with the wooden spoon in her hand. “And you’re very, very late for it, anyway.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you. Making me stop hugging my favourite person. Do you even know how much I have to _sacrifice?_ ” He threw himself into a chair and twisted himself into a pretzel. His mother set a steaming bowl of wheat porridge in front of him with an amused look. He smelled sole and olive and thyme and oregano and all manner of wonderful things rising in a fragrant steam. He was impressed with how quickly he untangled himself. He shoveled it into his mouth with little regard for how much it burned. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He was supposed to get lunch in town, but he’d run into Annabeth, and that plan got pretty much forgotten and pushed aside. When he’d scraped the bowl clean, he set down his ligula and slumped in the chair, giving a contented sigh.

They barely used their house: only two cubiculums, side by side and only really used at night, the culina, the impluvium for washing, and the study for paperwork. The rooms they used, though, were cozy and lived-in and so familiar to Percy it almost hurt. This was his home. It was the safest place in the world for him.

And somehow, it all seemed brighter now that he’d made peace with his neighbour.

He smiled at his mother and was met with her fond grin. “I’ve never seen anyone eat like you do.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” he said, laughing.

“I’m not sure. We’ll call it an observation, how about that?” She got up and ruffled his hair before putting his bowl in a basin. “You’ve been very friendly with the Chases’ daughter, lately,” she said slyly.

Percy huffed. “Just because we haven’t been yelling at each other doesn’t mean that we’re being ‘very friendly’.”

“It’s just an observation,” she said, hands in the air. “I’ve just noticed you’ve been gone all afternoon for the past two days, and you come back smiley-er than you normally are. I’ve just been wondering-”

“Mom!” Percy laughed, slightly horrified. “There’s nothing going on. We’re barely even friends.”

“Well then,” she said, hands on her hips. She looked the picture of motherly benevolence. “Why don’t we fix that? I’m going to go see my sister tomorrow, remember? Why don’t you ask her to come over tomorrow?”

“Um, sure?” he said.

“Wow, Perce, don’t get too excited.” She sat down opposite him. As far as Percy knew, they were the only people who sat to eat. But he supposed that was due to the fact that neither of them really had time to make dinner the hours-long meal it would be elsewhere. “It’ll be fun.”

She sounded excited about it, more than she had for a long time. “Sure, Mom, I’ll ask her.”

She smiled, then got up and starting cleaning off the pot.

“You’re not eating?” Percy asked, twisting to look at her. His eyebrows furrowed.

“No,” she sighed, “I’m not feeling very hungry tonight.” Percy knew that that was a lie. Today must have been a bad day, when there wasn’t enough food in the house. He felt angry that he’d eaten all his dinner instead of sharing it, but he’d been under the impression that she had a portion too.

His dead father’s house was the only thing keeping them out of an insula with two other families. His mother’s small wage from the wool shop wouldn’t sustain them on their own, but she was slowly selling off her jewelry. And he had his blacksmith apprentice wages to rely on, too. And if war broke out- again- then he’d send her his wages and she would only have to provide for herself.

“Mom,” he said, exasperated. “I’ve asked you-”

“And I’ve told you it’s not something you should worry about.” Her tone indicated that the conversation was over. She looked tired. Percy’s heart ached for her. “Why don’t you go to bed, it’s late.”

He got up and pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweet boy.”

Percy plodded to his room and sat down on his bed, head in his hands. His mother was the nicest woman in the world. She deserved better than being sad and alone. Percy knew that she had grown up without parents and on the streets, and her only good break had been meeting his father. But he had died and left her alone with a child, and she refused to sell the domus so that Percy could have it. He wished he could do more, but what he made from his own smithy wage, with his mother’s salary, was just barely enough to keep them afloat. She was a plebeian woman, by birth, but from a family so poor they were treated like slaves, and he wasn’t even an adult yet. No one could possibly take them seriously. Especially not in their wealthy neighbourhood.

Something had to change. Maybe they could save up enough to join the equestrian class if Percy found a higher paying job, or took on another. His mother deserved to live like a queen.

 

***

 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Percy whipped around and Annabeth got splashed. She raised her hand to wipe off her face and looked at him, eyes narrowed. Percy gave her a sheepish grin.

“I swear that’s just water,” he said, running a hand through his sopping hair to get it off his face. Even from here, Annabeth could smell the perfumed soap from the baths. She fiddled with her hairpins and hugged the scrolls she was carrying more closely to her chest. These were old- she couldn’t afford to ruin them.

“Lucky for you these are still intact,” she said. “I have to drop these off at someone’s house. Walk with me?”

They fell easily into step together. Annabeth was beginning to regret not having brought the scrolls in a bag or a basket. Their leather cases were slippery.

“So,” Percy said, grinning. “Where’s your entourage?”

Annabeth groaned. “Don’t remind me. I hate being swarmed by those women every time I leave the house.”

He looked at her. “Then why aren’t they with you right now?”

She rolled her eyes. “I only have breathing room because I sneak out so much. My mother thinks I sent these off with one of our runners. I’m going to be in so much trouble when I get back. Hopefully my dad can soften the blows a little.”

He chuckled. “Your mom sounds like she’s fun to be around.” They passed the Forum and entered a residential area.

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, she’s the best. ‘Behave like a woman of your standing!’ ‘Don’t speak with the slaves!’ ‘Chase women only bathe in the blood of Vestal virgins!’”

Percy choked on his laughter. “What was that last one?”

She laughed, involuntarily this time. “I would kill to have your mom, though.” The sun was hot and merciless. Annabeth could feel sweat running down the back of her neck. The wool of her outer tunic was killing her. She shifted the scrolls uncomfortably and hoped that her father’s friend would be grateful.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling fondly. A small light entered his eyes. “My mom’s pretty great.” Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Speaking of my mom!”

“Speaking of your mom,” she parroted, smiling.

Percy threw her a scowl before continuing. “Speaking of my mom, she’s travelling tomorrow with some friends, so I wondered whether you’d want to, I don’t know, hang out tomorrow?”

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. “What does ‘I don’t know hanging out’ entail, exactly?” A scroll slipped and fell out of her arms. Percy lunged and caught it before it hit the ground. “Thanks,” she said, nodding her head.

He pried half the scrolls out of her arms and held them himself. “No problem. And I don’t know, maybe go for a ride?”

“Well, your horse is so well-trained that it must surely be the eighth wonder of the world.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, no. I’m just surprised you wanted a harpy like me near Tenebrus.”

“Oh, well, if you get thrown it won’t be my fault, anyway.”

Annabeth laughed. They fell into comfortable silence until they reached an austere house, dripping mosaic and marble, and swarmed by slaves running about, working. It looked like an anthill. She noticed Percy shifting uncomfortably beside her.

“Don! Hey, Don!” She waved over a young man. He looked worn, but his arms were free. “Can you take these to Octavian for me? They’re from my dad.”

He nodded, silent, and took the scrolls from her and Percy’s arms. Before he could leave, she slipped a small handful of gold coins into his pocket. “It was all I could take without them getting suspicious,” she said in a small voice. He looked overwhelmed, but he swallowed and nodded again. “Thanks, Don.”

He turned and ran into the house.

Percy and she turned and started walking back to their neighbourhood. The chatter of the crowds, horses, and different shops, along with their own footsteps, filled Annabeth’s ears. It was Percy who finally broke the silence.

“I hate it.” He sounded bitter. Annabeth didn’t have to ask what about.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m always around them. I try to help where I can, but…”

He still looked cross. “I just- how can anyone keep people like animals? For the love of the gods, even animals get better treatment. _How_ can anyone treat people like they’re not people?” He stopped and rounded on her, now. “How can you stand to be around people who keep slaves?” His voice was beginning to get choked. She could see that this wasn’t a random outburst.

Annabeth’s eyes widened. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered. “I-I’ve been around them my whole life-”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” He was really angry now, his jaw squared and his fists clenched. “It’ll never make it okay!”

“Percy,” she said, softly, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. He quietened and looked down with closed eyes. “I’m not saying that it’s ever okay. I’m saying that if you can’t adapt in an environment you’re going to live in for the rest of your life, you won’t survive. The important thing is that you do the best you can to make it right.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said in a low voice.

“It’s okay,” she said. “If I think about it too much, I get too angry to remember to do something about it.”

They continued walking on while Annabeth chewed on how much more developed his moral compass was than she had anticipated, and wondered why he had such a strong reaction. .

“Yes,” she blurted as they passed the baths again.

“What?”

“Riding. Tomorrow. I never said I would.”

Slowly, a smile spread across Percy’s face.  

A cloud had covered the hot sun, much to Annabeth’s relief.


End file.
